Goodbye
by literarywonderbread
Summary: In which Nero writes to Credo about coming to terms with his death. (ONE-SHOT) Set post DMC4 with influences from the DMC4 graphic novel: Deadly Fortune.


I'll never forget the way you looked at me, walking up those steps. That was the look you gave to your enemies, and even after all of the arguments, all the days spent not talking to one another, the very last thing I expected was for my own **__brother__** to turn his sword on me.

That day, I told you that that I wouldn't fight you because of Kyrie. That was a part of it, but the truth is, Credo, that I didn't want to fight you because everything was going to shit, and I thought that, out everyone, I could **_still_** trust _**_you_**_.

You always had my back, even when we were kids. You were my family, you and Kyrie, our parents… When they died, you went from being my brother, to trying to be my father. I think that maybe that's why things between **_us_ ** started going to shit, because suddenly you weren't my brother anymore, not the one I knew. You cracked down on Kyrie and me, but mostly me, and I didn't think it was fair.

I thought you were an asshole, plain and simple. I didn't want another dad; I wanted my brother. I wanted the you that would laugh at my jokes, and who didn't judge me for every little thing that I did or didn't do. Nothing I did seemed to be good enough for you anymore, and I thought that maybe if I joined the Holy Knights that by some miracle I'd get into your good graces again.

It seemed to work, at least for a little while, and then the demons from the Mitis Forest attacked, Kyrie got hurt, and somehow you blamed that on _**_me_**_ being too reckless.

I wanted to tell you about my arm. I wanted to tell someone, anyone, but I couldn't. I couldn't even tell Kyrie. In that, I was very much alone.

The day that Dante showed up in Fortuna and killed Sanctus was the day my life changed forever, and I'll admit that for a while there was a part of me that blamed Dante for things, for your death, for the life I knew getting turned upside down. Suddenly, I had more questions than I did answers, and it pissed me off.

While I knew that, that was wrong, that Dante wasn't at fault, that didn't stop me from lashing out at him. I only did it once, three months after Dante and I stopped Sanctus.

Three months after your _**_funeral_**_.

Without a body to bury, we buried your sword instead. Kyrie cried, but I couldn't, especially not in front of her, despite how she told me that if I wanted to talk to her about things, I could.

For three months, I felt nothing but _**_anger_**_. I was angry at you for getting yourself killed, I was even angry at Kyrie for always asking me if I was alright, and insisting that we _**_needed_**_ to talk when I didn't want to anything but move on with life, but most of all, I was angry at myself for not being stronger and for letting myself get captured. I know you would have come for us anyway, for Kyrie and I, but I thought that if I was stronger that I could have done more, and maybe, just maybe things would have been different.

But I couldn't move on when I hadn't even come to terms with losing you. Dante, in his own way, showed me that.

It was raining, and I had been away from home from Kyrie for about a solid month. I kept in contact with her and everything, but I had thrown myself into my new demon hunting business, just trying to focus on something else, **_anything_ ** else. Kyrie, of course, got worried and called Dante, asking if he knew when I'd be back.

Dante found me. I don't know how, but he did, and I'm glad that he did _**_now_**_ , although at the time, seeing him standing there, in what I felt was an invasion of my privacy, looking both smug and disappointed in me at the same time… It was too much.

We argued, though it was more me telling him to fuck off than anything else. He told me that I was acting like a kid, and I went off on him. I told him that I didn't give a damn about him and what he thought, that he could take his opinions and shove them up his ass.

Looking back on it, it reminded me of our fight for Yamato. But this was different, and I was worse off than I was then. Dante knew that, which is probably the only reason why he didn't say much when I started tearing into him. He lost a brother too, and though he hardly ever talks about it, I know it still affects him.

When things looked like they were about to get physical, Dante suggested that we go outside. I agreed, looking for any opportunity to kick his ass again.

I remember grabbing Yamato, and how the thunder rolled overhead. We'd found an abandoned field not too far from the hotel comprised of mostly dirt which the rain had turned to mud. I remember the scent of the wet earth, and the sound of my own heart beating in my ears, like war drums echoing in the night.

"Go ahead then," Dante said, Rebellion in hand. "Get it off your chest if it makes you feel better."

But I wasn't interested in talking anymore. Yamato in hand, I charged at him, and I remember my reasoning behind using it instead of Red Queen.

It was Yamato that Sanctus used to kill you, and in my misguided rage, I wanted Dante to taste the bitter tang of the blade that killed my brother as the blood worked its way into his lungs, slowly killing him.

 _ ** _Those_**_ thoughts, I know now, weren't my own. They belonged to my _**_demon_**_ , and the moment Rebellion and Yamato's blades crossed, I felt my devil trigger roll through me. Dante pushed, I pushed back, or my body did. It was like looking from the outside in through a fogged up window, and I couldn't see anything with my human eyes so much as I _**_felt_**_ what my demon did in those moments.

I'm not sure how or why, but in a strange way, everything I was feeling felt familiar. The way the rain felt against my face, the sound of metal against metal, and the rush of adrenaline and demonic power. It felt _**_amazing_**_ , but, at the same time, _**_terrifying_**_. I hadn't felt anything like it before, not since the time in Agnus' lab, but even that paled in comparison to what I felt then.

I grew more aggressive, and what humanity I had left slowly began to slip away. Dante was having difficulty fending me off, but I knew that he wasn't fighting at full strength, that he was holding back. That, more than anything, served to piss me off further.

"Come on!" I snarled at him. "Where's your motivation!?"

The words came so easily to me, that I didn't really think about how they didn't feel like something _**I**_ would say. Even Dante seemed caught of guard by it, and my demon took advantage of that. My bringer shot forward, slamming Dante against the ground, the force of the blow causing a crater to form beneath him.

My demon thought it had won, and I saw myself raising Yamato, ready to make Dante my new sheath. And then, all at once, Dante triggered and I was the one on my back, staring up into those burning eyes, sharp claws digging into my shoulders as I was slammed against the muddy ground, mud and dirty water seeping into my clothes, hair slicked back from the rain.

For a moment, I saw in Dante a part of him that I had never seen before. It was as though when he looked at me, he didn't _**_see_**_ me, but someone else. When he spoke, his words were distorted, and gruff, his expression softening despite how his hold on me never once eased up.

"Come on, kid." He said, a low growl reverberating in his throat. "Snap out of it!"

"Get off of me!" I snapped, and I grabbed him with my bringer again, spectral digits wrapping around scaled hide before I _**_threw_**_ him off of me, watching as he slid against the mud. As for myself, I felt dizzy, but I had my sense of self back for the most part, even if the world around me was spinning, and my thoughts were a scattered, incoherent mess of strangled words that wouldn't leave my mouth no matter how much I wanted to _**_scream_**_ them.

My anger had faded, replaced by a deep sense of _**_loss_**_. I detriggered, and Yamato returned to its makeshift sheath inside of my devil bringer. I sat up, teeth grit, and silently trying to deal with the anvil of emotion that was threatening to _**_crush_**_ my chest.

 _" _Nero! Run! Augh…!"__

 _" _Credo!"__

And I saw you, _**_falling_**_ , and I reached out, trying to grab your hand, but it was too late, just like it was too late then. My brother was dead, and there was nothing I could do to bring him back, no way that I could tell him all of the things that I wanted to, that, despite everything, I loved him.

"You know," came Dante's voice from somewhere behind me, and my hand fell, fingers curling in on themselves into a tight fist, claws digging into my palm. "It won't make ya any less of a man if you cry."

I snorted at him, glancing over my shoulder, watching as he picked up Rebellion, detriggered and covered in mud. "'Devils never cry'. That's what they say, isn't it?"

He looked at me, and for a long time didn't say anything before he shook his head, a wistful chuckle escaping him before he ran a hand through his hair and made his way over to me, boots _**_squelching_**_ in the mud with his every step.

"A long time ago, someone once told me that even the devil may cry when he loses a loved one." Dante gave a shrug of his shoulders, and before I could tell him 'no', he hoisted me up off of the ground with a jerk of my coat, bringing me to my feet before looking me over. "Food for thought."

"So that's why your shop is called the 'Devil May Cry'." I said, and Dante shifted almost uncomfortably despite how his expression remained carefully neutral.

It made sense, and then I understood just why he was so avoidant when it came to the subject of Vergil. I had always assumed that his brother had died, but until that moment I hadn't really thought about it, or about how it affected Dante still, that it affected him at all.

"Back when we first met, you said that we were the same." Dante continued to say nothing. "I guess that applies in more ways than one now."

"Kid–" Dante took a deep breath, and for a moment he seemed to quietly debate something before he smiled at me even though I knew it was just a mask. " _ ** _Nero_**_. How about I take ya back to the shop and get ya a drink? Seems like you could use it."

That time, it was me that shook my head. "Nah, but…thanks." I paused, smoothing a hand over my hair, flattening it back to its usual state. Dante seemed almost relieved, though I didn't know why, and still don't. "Besides, Kyrie is waiting for me."

"Fair enough," said Dante, "better you than me. She nearly bit my head off when I told her I didn't know where you were. Take it that means she's worried."

In other words, I was in for it when I got home, not that I didn't deserve it. "Yeah, so, uh… I guess I'll be seein' ya. Also, um. Sorry about, you know–"

"Just don't make it a habit." Dante gave a dismissive wave of his hand before glaring at me. "And I'm gonna teach you a thing or two about controllin' your demon when I get the chance. Until then, no more of this goin' off on your own crap. You gotta problem, you can talk to me, or hell, talk to Kyrie. I ain't gonna hunt you down everytime your girlfriend calls me asking where you are."

"Got it," I said, not really having expected the impromptu lecture, but I wasn't about to argue either.

After we said our goodbyes, I headed home, back to Fortuna. Kyrie was both happy to see me, and angry. You remember how she'd never yell unless she was really ticked off? Well, I _**_really_**_ ticked her off.

We talked about…talking. About you. What happened. I suggested it first just so she'd stop yelling, but I did want to. I was ready. But first, I went into your room and sat on your bed, just like I used to when we were kids. It's pretty much how you left it, which makes it easy for Kyrie to keep clean. You always were a neat freak, Credo.

I sat in your room for a good hour, thinking about the old times, the _**_good_**_ times, back before everything started falling apart. It didn't really hit me until I saw the photograph on your desk, the one mom and dad took of you and me and Kyrie not long after I came to live with you, just how hard things must have been for you after they died.

You were the one that broke the news to me and Kyrie after you found out. I remember how Kyrie cried, and how angry I was at the demons that killed mom and dad. Some things never change, I guess, but then I thought of how our roles were reversed after you died, and how it was me who had to tell Kyrie that _**_our_**_ brother was dead.

You were just looking out for me and Kyrie. You had more responsibilities, between your studies, taking care of us, and becoming a Holy Knight. You cracked down on me because you just wanted to see me do well, and make something of myself, but being the head of the household, you also had our family's reputation to uphold. I know I never made that easy for you, but I was trying. That's why I became a knight, and even when they didn't want me using Blue Rose, you still stood up for me, despite how others looked down on you for it.

I cried then. For the first time since you died, I grieved for you, for the one person aside from Kyrie who knew me better than I knew myself, for my best friend.

For my brother.

And I wish I wasn't such a dumbass back then, and that I could find some way to tell you how important you were to me, Credo. You taught me a lot, even those times I pretended not to be interested, I was. You taught me how to wield a sword, and how to _**_protect_**_ the people that matter the most.

Are you proud of me, big bro? Have I 'made something of myself' in your eyes? I'm trying. I'm trying to protect Kyrie, and use my arm and sword to protect others as well. It's not a bad living, being a demon hunter, even though I'm a demon myself.

I miss you, Credo. I miss you getting on my back about things, and sometimes I swear I can hear you chastising me every now and again when I do something stupid. And even though I didn't say it often enough when you were alive, I love you.

Wherever you are, if you can read this, tell mom and dad that I miss and love them too, and that I said 'thank you' for taking me in all of those years ago and letting me be apart of their family. They were the best parents a dumb kid like me could have asked for.

And you were the best big brother.

Goodbye, Credo.


End file.
